


Ironic melancholy

by Harker13, Masamune7



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harker13/pseuds/Harker13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamune7/pseuds/Masamune7
Summary: Sherlock's actions cannot leave without consequences.Has John's patience come to its end?





	Ironic melancholy

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a dreadfully melancholic day and unfortunately for our characters; that impacts their story. We all need a good hug instead of wild sex from time to time.

 

**6:30 a.m.**

John had insisted Sherlock for months to take a small road-trip to Canterbury.

Everyone agreed they needed a well-deserved time just to relax and contemplate each other (mostly John); however, Sherlock’s eternal hyperactivity delayed the trip. Lestrade had to blackmail him into not include him in any other BIG case until they leave for the weekend (he was of course lying but managed to seem categorical about his decision for a good ten minutes).

 “I’ve always had the feeling I annoy you” – John hadn’t spoke since they leave London.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not only you, everyone annoys me eventually.” – Sherlock decided the best way to not die of boredom was to be the driver.

“At a more … personal level, like you want me around only when it’s convenient to you.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something, could you please hurry up with the obvious claim you need to do?”

“Nothing… I’m just speaking out loud.”

“Then go speak out loud somewhere else!” – shouted at John.

“Somewhere else? What?! You want me to jump off the car?! … It always amazes me how you can be an even bigger dick-head every time. Seems almost effortless. Don’t you dare call me the next time you have nightmares.” – and he opened the door and jumped.

“JOHN! Idiot…”

Sherlock stopped the car abruptly and rushed to aid the doctor.

“Just go and let me die already” – Watson was laying back on the pavement; only had a minor scratch on the hand.

“I’d love to do that, but we rented the car with your credit card. I’ll be accused of murder if I leave you here, idiot… c’mon” – Sherlock stood up; started to walk back to the car.

“You know … I don’t like not knowing” – John didn’t seem to have the intention to get up.

“What are you talking about?! You planned this trip!”

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on with you and me.”

“Let’s figure that out in our bloody destination, shall we?” – and offered his hand for the Drama Queen to rise from the road. – “It’s getting dark, let’s go”.

____

The fireplace was burning, and the cold winter night wind lashed the night. A huge leather sofa was placed in front of the fire and John Watson idly wrote notes in a journal.

“I made hot chocolate” – Sherlock was carrying two steamy cups awfully decorated with whipped cream and a strange smiley face made with tiny marshmallows – “Mrs. Hudson gave me the recipe”.

“Sherlock, we’re Brits… we don’t drink chocolate; we drink tea; remember?” – John was trying to be funny and ironic but, Sherlock’s melancholic gaze interrupted his performance – “C’mere love” – took both cups and put them in the side table.

“You look particularly miserable today. Have I done something to wrong you? I’ll skip the small talk part and jump right to the “it’s your fault” segment; what did I do this time? tell me”.

For such a small man, John Hamish Watson’s arms were strong enough to protect Sherlock from his demons; nevertheless … the detective didn’t say a word.

“Sherlock, I love you … so, so much … can’t you tell?” – said a he rested his head above Sherlock’s curls.

“Hardly.”

“You know, I came here with all the intention of bang you like a … soldier who hasn’t seen a vagina in five years but now… you’ve made cuddling a much interesting choice than sex”. – he smiled.

“Did that happen to you?” – Sherlock interrupted him.

“What? The soldier-vagina thing? … yes, in fact it did … until I met you and realized had other … concerns. Your hair has grown so long” – said while running his fingers through it.

“Make it stop” – said while closing his eyes and John stopped the caress.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Not with my hair”

“Where does it hurt, dear?”

“The numbness… first I thought it was dehydration but … it’s like I’m not even here anymore.” – Sherlock snuggled even more.

“I got you here… you’re safe.” – John whispered in his lover’s ear; placed a sweet kiss on his temple.

“This is the nicest nightmare I’ve had in months” – a smiled spread across his face.

“Nightmare?”

“Your embrace and scent assure me you’re here… I know you’re going to fade away. This cottage, the fireplace, your hideous matching socks and jumpers… feels like …”

“Feels like what?”

“Home.”

____

Before they could kiss, Sherlock opened his eyes at the sound of the alarm. 6:30 a.m. He was alone in his bedroom, in that cold winter morning.

“You never took a single note in a notebook John”

It had been two months since John left.

**Author's Note:**

> Never let the hot-chocolate gets cold :(
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
